By Mark Furnish, Diocese of Rochester NY
Delivered to the United Nations Committee on the Rights of the Child
Geneva, Switzerland
October 12, 2002

http://www.snapnetwork.org/survivors_voice/furnish_not_alone.htm

I can not change the fact that I was sexually molested by a Catholic priest.

Believe me, I have tried for the past 15 years to do just that. I spent
those years in denial -- I am just now discovering the harm, pain and
embarrassment this molestation has caused to my body and mind.

It was very difficult for me to tell my wife, family, friends and colleagues
what happened. I have struggled with the decision to publicly come forward
with my story. I don't want to do this, but I believe I have to. If my
story, in some way, can prevent even one child from facing the pain of
sexual abuse and the hurt of manipulation by someone they trust, than
my discomfort with all of this is worth it. I firmly believe that silence,
denial and the lack of action is the greatest tragedy in this entire Catholic
crisis. I need to break the wall of silence.

My abuser was a master of deceit and manipulation. He knew that his role
as a Catholic priest granted him instant trust by adults -- my parents
included. He knew I would not question his authority at 12 years old,
especially as a student taught in Catholic schools since kindergarten.
He was smart enough to hide his sexual impulses under the guise of "weekend
trips" with other boys at his "cottage" -- actually a small,
run down two room hunting shack three hours away from my home in the middle
of the woods.

I went on several of these trips. Sometimes I was molested, other times
I was not -- but the pattern was always the same. The other boys and myself
were allowed to drink alcohol, whisky, gin and beer were all very common
-- in fact very little in the way of nonalcoholic drinks were provided
to us. After dinner we would take a drive to a local bar, where Father
would continue to drink into the night. After the bar visit we would all
get into his car and he would drive us back to his cottage ( I vividly
remember one night he was so drunk he vomited on himself while driving).

It was now time for bed -- and it became one of the most stressful parts
of the evening. Most of us would sleep on the floor in the dining room
-- but one of us would be chosen to sleep in Father's bed with him. Sometimes
he would pick the boy to sleep with him, but most times we would be asked
to choose among ourselves. If we did not make the determination quickly,
Father would get upset and tell us to hurry up -- often times a flip of
a coin would decide the matter.

Father's bed was quite small. He would insist that the only way I could
sleep comfortably was to strip down to my underwear. He would not drop
the matter until I complied with the request. He would then offer to give
me a "massage" to aid in falling asleep -- he always referred
to these sessions as "massages". The massage would consist of
Father rubbing down my body and always ended by touching my genitals and
buttocks area. Sleeping during the night was difficult, often times I
would wake up because Father's hands were touching me.

The next morning Mass would be celebrated before breakfast. After breakfast
we would all take turns taking the Sacrament of Confession with Father.
He called these "open" confessions. These confessions involved
taking a walk in the woods. Father would proceed to list off Ten Commandments
asking me to list the sins I committed under each Commandment.

This would go quite quickly until we reached "Thou shall not covet
thy neighbor's wife". He would explain that this did not just mean
adultery, but any sin involving sex, including masturbation. He would
then focus on intently on the subject of masturbation for the rest of
the confession. If I denied I masturbated, he would say I was lying, siting
some scientific "study" which indicated that 99.9% of all men
masturbated. He was obsessed with the topic. The rest of the day would
be a repeat of the day before.

On the way back to Rochester, Father would remind us that he trusted
all of us a great deal, and "discussing" what happened at the
cottage would create problems for everyone -- as it had once in the past
when someone "had a big mouth". At home, I didn't volunteer
facts about what occurred and since I was spending my time with a priest,
my parents didn't feel the need to ask.

I went to the cottage four or five times. However, there were also trips
to Toronto where "massages", trips to pornography stores and
heavy drinking all occurred.

By the time I was in high school I knew enough to know that I did not
enjoy these trips and refused to go on any more overnights. Although I
stayed in contact with Father, occasionally going out to dinner, where
he complained bitterly to me about how the Bishop was "out to get
him". I grew up and went on with my life. Father performed the funeral
mass for my grandmother, and I even asked him to perform my wedding ceremony
(he refused.)

Why did I wait so long to come forward? Why didn't I refuse to stop going
on my trips with my abuser after the first molestation? Good questions
with a very simple answer. I was is extreme denial, quite common with
victims of sexual abuse. These trips were a bizarre mix of alcohol, sexual
molestation, normal sightseeing, and Catholicism. I had sex talks with
Father under the guise of "confession", I was told the molestations
were "massages" and the next morning mass was said. As a teenager,
it was easy for me to convince myself nothing was wrong.

The denial worked for a long time. It wasn't until law school that I
suffered from extreme panic attacks and depression. For a long time I
had no idea what was the cause of them. Over the past year, the nonstop
media coverage of priest abuse forced me to reflect back and I started
to piece together my own story of abuse -- and it hit me like a ton of
bricks. Today I am in therapy and working to help others who suffer with
the same stigma.

My mother, a devout Catholic all her life has left the church. I was
not only sexually abused, but spiritually abused as well.

Everyday I find out more and more about my abuser. I found out recently
he was sent away for treatment and people had concerns about his unhealthy
interest in youth before I was even born. Why wasn't anyone there to protect
me? I also harbor guilt that I didn't speak out sooner -- might it have
spared someone else from abuse?

So I want to take this awful experience and use it as a tool to warn
others. The common warning we tell children is "don't take candy
from strangers" -- very good advice. But we fail to realize that
sexual abuse often occurs by a trusted member of that child's life --
no one should be immune from suspicion -- even your priest. Further, the
negative effects of sexual abuse often do not manifest until years later
-- it is important to take preventative steps before it is too late for
your child.

I hope my story will help in some small way. I also want to encourage
others who suffer in silence to come forward with their own stories --
you are not alone.